Arm Yourself
by randomfics
Summary: One of Heinz Doofenshmirtz arms falls off. Perry helps. Kinda. [CW: mentioned child abuse]


**A/N**: _experimental style, and my first fic for Phineas and Ferb so probably ooc'ness. Sorry. Based off one sentence in Road to Danville._

* * *

><p>His arm fell off. Heinz Doofenshmirtz stared at it for a moment, frustration and bile rising in the back of his throat. He was running late today. He had slept in, and Perry the Platypus would be arriving in another three hours. It would be just enough time to get his -inator of the day ready, and then he could finally start feeling better again.<p>

_You try not to remember the dreams. Nightmares. They're always full of yelling, teeth and claws. Of giant monsters that were only forced back by garden gnomes. If you were lucky you had on your garden gnome clothes. If not… Well, you lost your arm for a reason, huh?_

Today wasn't his day though. Doofenshmirtz prodded his arm with his toe, German quivering at the tip of his tongue. He swallowed the words, and settled for a glare. His accent was thicker as he snapped at the titanium lump lying on the ground, "Oh suuuuure! Just fall off when I'm in a rush! I can replace you! You know that, right?"

The arm lay there uselessly. Doofenshmirtz bent to scoop it up. If he worked hard enough, he could probably repair his arm and get his –inator of the day ready. Perry the Platypus was always very punctual. He started setting his clocks to Perry's arrival. Speaking of clocks, what happened to his alarm?

He glanced over to the mangled, sparking piece of trash that had once been his alarm clock. He considered the problem, and shrugged. "Eh, I'll get myself a new one later." He could just fix it, but he was going to be busy enough today. Maybe later, after his fight with Perry the Platypus.

_You know you're not going to fix it. Not going to finish anything, because when your arm malfunctions, it malfunctions with a wave of pain. Like the boulder crushing your arm it stays and aches forever. Like having to cut it off and waiting for it to regrow because that's what starfishes do and you're not human. Humans didn't regrow body parts, so surely yours must regrow sometime._

His titanium arms were that way for a reason. He had made the first arm out of discarded steel and wires he found in a local dump. It got easily destroyed. Now he found himself grumbling as he struggled to peel back the fake flesh to open up the panels that connected circuits to brain waves. Titanium was durable, and Heinz found himself retreating into his workroom to find a laser. He could weld the arm close later, but he needed to get it open first.

"You are a very naughty thing, you know that?" All the way he chattered to it and himself in English. He complained about how his back ached, how it could at least work with him, and would it please just pop open? He didn't repair it very much, he had built it to not need repairs.

"You- you- scheisskopf!" Heinz hissed as the arm refused to work with him once again. "Halunke!"

The shining, gleaming metal smugly glinted back at him. Heinz grumbled more in German. It was okay- the house was empty. Norm had vanished elsewhere, Vanessa wouldn't be around for the weekend, and Perry the Platypus shouldn't be arriving for awhile yet. Heinz leveled his best glare at the arm, and began reciting a German string of words he knew by heart.

_You listened to it every day of your life, haven't you? Swears and insults, mixed up into one big pile of disappointment. The first word you remember learning and hearing was dreckskerl. You were always a disappointment. Could never do anything right, not even regrow your arm. Those words, you know they're for you, and only you, right?_

The arm eventually popped open. He only had one hand to do the repairs with, so he couldn't steady the arm at the same time as he soldered. The low string of curses continued, a soft recitation of what his father would say.

Heinz pushed away from the table, still muttering German under his breath. He needed the laser again. His one good hand reached out to grab the laser. He squinted at his metal arm, still half-wrapped in the flesh-colored plastic. When he leveled the sharp laser, he wasn't sure if he was surprised or resigned when a flying kick sent it skittering away.

"Hello Perry the Platy- ack!" His customary greeting was cut off as Perry the Platypus grabbed him by the labcoat, and pulled him back from the table. He blinked at the furious eyes.

"Perry The Platypus-" He tried again, indignation rising in him, "Is there a reason why you have greeted me with a flying kick to the hand? I haven't even gotten to make my –inator of the day!"

The steely glare didn't let up for a second. Heinz continued to ramble, "Honestly, I'm just trying to repair my arm here! You didn't have to be quite so rude!"

The angry glare vanished in a second to be replaced with confusion. Perry glanced back slowly to where Heinz broken arm lay on the table. He let go with a gigantic sigh that shook the small mammal from the tip of his bill to his tail. He backed off, to instead sit down next to the broken arm. "Honestly!" Heinz threw up his hand, and pouted. "Now I have to find my laser. Did you see where it fell Perry the Platypus?"

Perry the Platypus crossed his arms, and gave him that level look that asked what was going on. Heinz shrugged, "Sorry Perry the Platypus, but I'm afraid that I don't have my tragic backstory prepared."

_The thing about tragic backstories is that as long as you cut out the details, they're funny. You say that you were raised by ocelots and it's hilarious. You don't mention how you ate raw meat and threw it up those first few days, how cold the nights got without fur. That makes it not funny. You've written down your tragic backstories, edited them until they sound funny enough for someone to brush off. Everyone laughs at you. Ha**ha**._

Perry the Platypus crossed his arms, still waiting for the story that Heinz hadn't prepared. "I already told you what happened to this arm. There was a boulder."

Perry the Platypus chattered, gesturing to the arm. "Oh, this? It fell off earlier and I've been trying to repair it. It is slow going with only one hand, I'll tell you."

The intense hatred was beginning to melt off now, replaced with mild irritation. Perry reached out to touch it, before stopping and looking back at him. Heinz was a bit surprised- Perry the Platypus didn't often ask for permission before touching his stuff. Mostly because they were actively fighting each other over whether or not it was going to be blown up, but still, it was nice that Perry the Platypus wasn't going to blow his arm up.

Heinz retrieved the small laser from where it had been kicked under a table. Perry the Platypus was crouched over the arm, small hands- paws- lightly rolling it back and forth so he could stare at the circuits. Heinz sat down and complained, "Honestly! I don't understand why the panels won't open."

Perry the Platypus looked down at the broken arm, back up at him, and a rather familiar look that Heinz had seen many, many times before crossed his face. He pressed a button- and the entire arm unfolded like a map, lying flat against the table. The circuits spilled over the side, and onto the floor.

"Oh. I forgot about that."

_You want to speak in German, speak all that wonderful hatred you have for yourself to yourself. You know Perry doesn't understand German. He wouldn't have to know how much you loathe and despise yourself. But you also know German isn't for your nemesis. It's just for **you**. A nemesis gets English, but never, ever German. German is the language of disappointment, and you're the only disappointment around here, aren't you?_

Perry the Platypus smirked, and cocked his head to the side as if telling him to hurry up. With his arm unfolded like a map, the problems he had before were suddenly clear and visible. There was one circuit broken, a few loosened from the daily fights, crumbs that somehow worked their way into his casing. His fingers were covered with coffee and water stains.

It was time for some major rehauling. Hours trickled past as Heinz worked on his arm, replacing old, outdated circuits and upgrading the sensation feedback. It had been far too long since he had updated this.

Perry the Platypus grumbled, and Heinz glanced up. Perry the Platypus was curled up and taking a nap on his desk. He looked a little cold, so Heinz shrugged off his labcoat and tucked it around him. The empty sleeve was getting in his way anyways.

Heinz soldered the last of the circuits down, as Perry the Platypus stretched and yawned. It was getting close to both of their bed times, and long past any time Heinz could start taking over the tri-state area. "Well, that's finished. Guess you should go home Perry the Platypus. I'll make something tomorrow."

He began to fold the arm back into shape. Perry continued sitting and watching as Heinz complained about what was going to happen tomorrow. The arm came together with a quiet click, gleaming metal, and the plastic was quickly wrapped on like a present.

Now Perry the Platypus was really watching him. He blushed. "Don't watch me so closely Perry the Platypus! It's so embarrassing!"

Perry shook his head, and crossed his arms. One eyebrow cocked at him, and Heinz babbled even more nervously. He didn't really want to put his arm back on around Perry the Platypus. "Honestly! Don't you know the meaning of privacy?"

Perry gave him the get-on-with-it look. Heinz sighed as he rolled up his sleeve. He should've worked on the tragic backstory while he was replacing wires, but he had thought he could avoid it this time. The socket on his arm was a mass of reddened, irritated flesh with wires dangling out. Perry the Platypus stared at the arm socket, and back at him. Heinz focused on the complicated task of getting his arm to fit back on.

"This really isn't meant to fall off you know. I mean, the first ones did and it just gets so annoying! You try to pick up a cup of coffee and then have your entire arm fall off! Yeesh, my dad threw a fit about that! I didn't break the cup, but I was locked in the milk carton with the cockroaches for three full hours."

_See, this is why you don't share backstories unless you've edited them. Perry is giving you that sorrowful, pitying look that makes you want to scream. You're fine. You're plenty fine. You cut off your own arm after it got trapped in the boulder. You didn't scream too much when the other arm was eaten by the monsters that prowl the forests of Gimmelshtumpt. You didn't cry when the sensitivity calibrations were wrong and touching a human was like touching fire. You hardly complained when both your arms needed to be rebuilt and you learned how to solder with your feet. Your tragic backstories are supposed to make others smile. Smile and ignore you._

_So please_

_just_

_**laugh**._


End file.
